Old Faces, New Places
by Flyaway Dove
Summary: After a horrible day of work and catching Harry at the wrong moment, Hermione drowns her sorrows in a few drinks, and runs into someone from her past on the way...but what if she didn't know it was someone from her past? REVISED! ONESHOT


**Old Faces, New Places **

"So what is it you do, Hermione?" asked Steven, Hermione's newest date.  
They were talking over an Italian dinner in a quaint, fancy restaurant.   
Hermione knew that she couldn't exactly answer this question. As far as she knew, Steven was a Muggle and she couldn't very tell him anything about her job at the Ministry of Magic. For the fifth date with the fifth guy in a row, she realized that this wasn't going to work out. "Look, Steven," she said sternly.   
"Steve," he smiled.  
"Well, Steve thanks for dinner, but I don't really think this is going to work out." She picked her napkin up from her lap and put it next to her half-eaten plate of spaghetti as she watched Steven's face fall. "It's not you, you're a great guy; it's just me, I'm not right for you," she promised, using her favorite cliché for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past three months.  
Dropping a few notes on the table to pay for her meal, Hermione stood up and walked from the restaurant, leaving one flabbergasted date in her wake.  
When Hermione arrived back at her flat in Muggle London, she turned off her car and sat in it for a few minutes. This evening she was wearing her usual date attire: the deep red dress that brought out the cinnamon in her eyes and the red high heels that matched the dress. Her hair was done up high on her head. She was tired of wearing this outfit almost every Friday night. She was tired of looking for hopeless relationships. And tonight she was just plain tired.  
She got out of the car and trudged up the front steps to the door. Knowing that Harry was on a date tonight as well, she took out her key and opened the front door into a dark room. She yawned as she hung her purse on the hat rack by the front door. There was a shriek as soon as she flicked the light switch and the sitting room and entryway were lit up.  
The lights revealed a half-naked Harry stumbling off the sofa and a blonde woman lying there, trying to unsuccessfully cover her nakedness with the back of the sofa.  
"Oh, god," Hermione cried, turning to face the front door. "Harry, I'm so sorry," she started, at the same time Harry said, "What are you doing here?"  
"Hermione, I thought you were on a date tonight," said Harry.  
"I was," said Hermione to the door, "but I didn't like him so I ended it early… hang on, I thought you were on a first date tonight."  
"I was," said Harry in a don't-ruin-my-night tone of voice.  
"Damn, this day just keeps getting better and better," Hermione said, banging her head against the white wood door.  
"Gabrielle, could you go into my room please, I'll be there in a minute," asked Harry. The blonde hurriedly got up from the couch and ran down the short hallway. Hermione heard the familiar squeak of her bedroom door shutting and she turned around to face the Harry with no shirt on.  
"What's up with you, Hermione?" he asked, putting a hand on her arm.   
"She's in my bed," replied Hermione, deciding to avoid the question. She wasn't in the mood right now to get into her horrible day, especially when Harry had a gorgeous blonde waiting for him. "Look Harry, I'm sorry I barged in on your shag-fest. I'll go somewhere for the night."  
"Are you sure, Hermione? I can ask her to leave," offered Harry, but Hermione could tell he was just trying to be nice; he didn't really want Hermione to take him up on his offer.  
"No, no, it's fine," said Hermione, rubbing the back of her neck where her muscles were starting to grow tense. "I'll see you tomorrow Harry. Have a bloody great time. And if you shag on my bed, please change the sheets."  
Somewhat reluctantly, Hermione turned around, grabbed her purse and headed out the door, leaving Harry to his date.  
She was still wearing her small, tight date dress so she scrapped the thought of taking a walk and instead got back into her car. "Maybe I'll just spend the night in here," she said aloud to the dull grey car interior. She thought on it for a moment before deciding that going to a pub to drown her horrible day in a few Sex on the Beach's. Then she would sleep in her car, since she had nowhere else to spend the night.  
She turned on her car and headed off to the closest pub. She almost never drank, but tonight was a special occasion. Tonight, desperate times called for desperate measures.  
Hermione recalled the reasons the hated pubs when she arrived: they were smoky, noisy and smelled of sweat, beer and cigar smoke. She immediately turned around and headed back out the door deciding that a club might be more her style.  
Once again in her car, she drove casually through the streets, looking for a club she could go to. She didn't usually go to clubs, like she usually didn't drink, (she hadn't been to a club since she'd graduated from Hogwarts), so she had no idea which were the best ones. The first one she spotted became her destination.   
Turning off her car, she climbed out again and entered Candelabra. Of course, this place was noisier—but it was music noise, so it was more welcoming—and there wasn't as much smoke or beer/cigar smell. At this point, though, Hermione didn't care about the sweat smell; she just wanted something to get all of the thoughts, emotions, and the picture of Harry's naked girlfriend out of her head. She didn't even notice how much she stuck out in her fancy red dress, high heels and carrying her sequined purse.   
Hermione made a beeline for the bar. She slid into a faux-fur covered stool and waited for the bartender to realize she was there.  
Soon, the blonde bartender noticed her and came over, dragging his rag across the counter. "What'll it be, babe?" he asked. Hermione could tell by his accent that he was American.  
"A Sex on the Beach, please," Hermione sighed. As he went to mix her drink, she dug in her purse for her wallet, only to find that it wasn't there. "Oh bloody hell!" she cried angrily. "I grabbed the wrong purse! Just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse!"  
"What's wrong?" the bartender asked, placing the glass in front of her.   
"I grabbed the wrong bloody purse. I don't have any—" Before she could finish her sentence, a few notes appeared on the counter, accompanied by a pale hand, attached to an equally pale arm. The American took the notes and left Hermione with her drink and the arm.  
She turned her head and looked up at a handsome face with inviting eyes and dark brown hair. "Thanks," she said tiredly, reaching for her drink and taking a sip. She was very grateful to this guy clad in tight black clothes; she really needed this drink.  
"No problem," he smiled. "I couldn't help but notice you over here in your little red dress and high heels and high hairdo with no money."  
Hermione gave him a half-hearted smile. Then she remembered her manners, and invited him to sit next to her. He accepted the offer.  
Her drink disappeared in less than a minute: before he'd even had a chance to speak. "Rough day, huh?" he said with a raised eyebrow.  
"You have no idea," Hermione replied.  
"Another?" he asked, waving the bartender over. She didn't have and time to protest before he ordered her another Sex on the Beach and himself and gin and tonic.  
"You're a lifesaver," she sighed, taking the second glass without hesitation.  
"So what made this day so bloody awful?" he wondered.  
"Everyone at work was yelling at me," Hermione explained, her tongue loosening with each sip of alcohol. "And I couldn't get any work done. Then I went to my favorite café for lunch and they were out of the sandwich I like; then my fax machine broke, I had an awful date; I go home to find my roommate with his naked date and now they're probably shagging on my bed."  
"Sounds like you need another Sex on the Beach," he said sympathetically.   
"It sounds like you're trying to get me drunk," Hermione said.  
"And what if I am?" he joked, smiling and looking at her questioningly. "I don't take advantage of girls, don't worry." And he ordered two more drinks. Hermione didn't protest, even though she could tell he was just trying to charm her.  
The two of them got to talking and drinking, without even learning each other's names. Hermione stopped drinking before she got too pissed; she didn't want to give this still nameless guy any opportunity to take her home with him. She couldn't handle the emotional baggage that came with one-night stands.  
"I'd better go," Hermione slurred, glancing at her watch. The blurry hands read two in the morning. "It was nice talking to you. Thanks for the drinks."  
As she slid off the bar stool, he put his hand on her knee. She looked at him a little meaner than she had intended. "Don't go," he said apologetically. "I like talking to you."   
"But I have to get home," she said. She paused for a moment before realizing that she told Harry she wouldn't come home. "Sod Harry," she said aloud. She earned a funny look from Mystery Man. "Harry's my roommate. I told him that I wouldn't come home tonight so that he could have the whole house to himself." She had no idea why she trusted this guy. Now she was sure what he was going to say—  
"Then don't leave, I enjoy talking to you," he said. Those were not exactly the words she was thinking, and she was glad that he proved her wrong. "I'll buy you another drink. And some food, if you're as hungry as I am."  
"That would be wonderful," Hermione said, giving in. "Though I think coffee would be better than alcohol. You do you know Ima going to pay you back for all this, right?" she said, slurring her words a little.  
"No, don't bother," he said. "This is no money at all. In fact, I think I'm glad I found you; I needed some excuse to lighten my wallet."  
"Rich bloke, eh?" said Hermione.  
He shrugged. "So don't pay me back."  
"Are you this charming to all the women you meet?"  
"Usually I don't actually talk to the women I meet. Usually I just get them pissed and shag them."  
"That's a lovely technique. What happened to never taking advantage of women?"  
"Ah, but I don't take advantage of them. It's always their own choice. They usually can't think straight, of course." He smiled slyly at her.  
"Well it's a lovely technique all the same."  
"It works all the time."  
"Oh, I don't doubt it."  
"What is that supposed to mean?"  
"That you're amazingly good-looking," Hermione said boldly. This caused the two of them to break out in half-drunken giggles.   
"Bartender!" he called, his giggles subsiding. When the cute American bartender appeared Mystery Man ordered two cups of coffee and whatever food there was to eat.  
While they were waiting, he asked Hermione if she wanted to dance. "I can't dance in this dress!" said Hermione. "I wish I'd changed my dress before Harry's shag-fest migrated into my room."  
"Sure you can dance in it," he said, and he whisked her onto the dance floor. Dancing was difficult because there were so many people doing it. They almost had to fight and dance at the same time. Hermione felt a bit inferior because he was such a good dancer so after the first song she made an excuse to go sit down again.  
They found her food and coffee waiting for them. "Oy, Drake!" someone shouted. Hermione turned her head towards the dance floor, where the voice seemed to come from. A tall brunette guy was pushing his way through the dancing mob towards them. Mystery Man, (now apparently Drake), got down from his stool and did what appeared to be a secret handshake with the tall brunette. Brunette glanced at Hermione. "Ah, but I can see you're on a date."  
"Oh, I'm not on a date," said Drake, looking at Hermione. "I don't even know her name." Heat rose in his cheeks.   
"Hermione," Hermione introduced herself, smiling.  
"Hermione," Drake repeated.  
"Yes, Hermione," she said, a little confused. His friend looked confused as well.  
"As in...oh god. Bartender, another drink please," said Drake, waving down the man behind the counter. He left Hermione and the brunette in suspense while he got his drink, emptied it and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He glared at Hermione for a few seconds and then smiled.  
"What is it?" Hermione asked.  
"Hermione as in Hermione Granger," Drake said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
Hermione was stunned. So was Drake's friend.  
"How..." Then realization hit when Drake smirked. "Oh Merlin..." She stumbled off her stool. "_Malfoy_?"  
"In the flesh," he said, keeping the smirk.  
"But...but..." Hermione stuttered. She saw his friend slink away.  
"What's the matter, Granger? Have I rendered you speechless?" he asked smartly.  
"But, I've been talking to you for _hours_. You've been _nice_ to me. I didn't realize...your _hair_."  
"Yes, I've dyed it. I can't believe I've been conversing with Hermione Granger for the past four hours." Now he seemed as surprised as she was. "Ah..." he smirked again. "So Potter's shagging someone in your bed, is he?"   
Hermione's eyes grew wide and she pulled her purse off the counter. "I've gotta go, thanks for the drinks," she said hurriedly, and turned around to leave. Draco caught her arm before she could escape. He spun her around and, before Hermione could protest, kissed her on the mouth. She sputtered and tried to pull away, but he held her around the waist and pulled her to him. Eventually she relaxed against him and kissed him back and they stood there by the door, snogging.  
When they finally broke the kiss, Draco ran his hand through her hair and said, "I always fancied you at Hogwarts."  
Hermione, the alcohol and the kiss making her giddy, started, for the second time that night, to giggle. "I fancied you too," she admitted.  
They kissed again, but Hermione pulled away quickly. "W-we can't do this. I've just met up with you tonight...this is crazy...so rushed...I've got to get home," she babbled and turned and dashed out the door.  
"Potter's shagging on your bed!" Draco called out the door after her. He watched as Hermione stopped, bent over double, and threw up in the club's gravel driveway. He ran out to her.   
"Ooohhhh," Hermione moaned, clutching her head. She was dizzy and nauseous from the alcohol, the fact that Harry was banging a girl in her bed, and that she'd just met up with and snogged Draco Malfoy, who she hadn't seen for almost five years. And now that's who was at her side.  
"Hermione?" he said, grabbing her shoulder. He caught her before she fell over altogether.  
"I don't feel very well," she said. She wasn't too sure why she felt so sick, but it wasn't good at all. "C'mon," he said and picked her up.  
"Take me to my car," she said. She leaned her head against his chest.  
He didn't reply, and the last thing she knew before she fell asleep was a silver car that definitely wasn't hers.  
She awoke to the sound of her pager beeping. Opening her eyes, she saw a tall wooden dresser and a matching wardrobe. As soon as she sat up, her head spun. Looking around the room, she saw that nothing was familiar to her. This was not her room.   
Hermione's purse was lying on the nightstand next to the king-sized canopy bed she was currently sitting on. She grabbed her purse, rummaged through it, and took out her pager.  
"_Where are you_?" it read. The message was from Harry.  
She decided not to send him anything back until she found out where she was, exactly. She put her pager back in her purse. Next to her purse on the nightstand was a potion bottle with a note by it. She picked up the note and read.

_Hermione- __  
__I figured you'd be hung over, so here's some hangover potion for you. You also probably have no idea where the hell you are. Well, you're in Malfoy Manor. I'll meet you down in the breakfast room. A house elf will be up to help you find your way. Take the potion; it will help a whole hell of a lot. __  
__ - Draco __  
_

Then the memories of the night before came back to her and she cringed. She wanted to escape, to avoid Draco at all possible costs, but there was no way to escape, she was hungry, and the house elf had just arrived in the doorway.  
"Master is wanting Periwinkle, to bring Miss Hermione to the breakfast room. Miss Hermione come with Periwinkle," said the elf.  
Hermione downed the foul-tasting potion in one gulp and grimaced from the taste. Then, slowly, as to not provoke any pain, she climbed out of the bed. For the first time that morning, she noticed that she was in silk pajamas and not her fancy, dark red dress. A stab of anger hit her because he had changed her clothes while she was unconscious.  
She decided that she would talk to Draco about that. Draco...is that what she should call him, now that they had both admitted they'd fancied each other in school and now that they'd kissed...or had they snogged just because they'd both been pissed?  
Hermione's questions were forgotten as soon as she followed Periwinkle the house elf into the corridor. Hallways led everywhere. It seemed like the Malfoy Manor might be as large as Hogwarts. There were portraits and tapestries lining the richly carpeted corridors. Hermione felt rather intimidated.  
She tried to remember the hallways they walked trough and the turns they took, but it was impossible; all of the hallways were identical.   
The pair finally came to the ground floor, which was mostly open. Hermione could see a living room, a sitting room, a kitchen and off the sitting room, though a door that was ajar, it looked as if there was a ballroom. Hermione had to consciously tell her brain to keep her mouth closed so her jaw wouldn't drop. Through a door off of the kitchen there was a breakfast room. It appeared to be the only small room in the house. There was a buffet table, a small tile table with three chairs around it and a hanging chandelier. Draco was sitting in one of the chairs, looking totally relaxed and at ease. Looking at him, Hermione decided that he looked better as a blonde.  
"Have a seat, Hermione," he offered. He seemed like the Draco she knew at school; a man who was aloof and mysterious and now at all like the funny, kind man she was with last night.

She sat across from him at the table and he ordered Periwinkle to get them breakfast. After the house elf left he said, "Well, Hermione, the years have certainly been good to you. I didn't even recognize you, as you know. Though, with your hair down and clad in those silk pajamas, you're a lot easier to identify."

"But you never saw me like this," said Hermione. She was afraid of what he might say next.

Her fears were confirmed when he replied, "No, but I've imagined you like this more than once."

She blushed and wondered why he'd given up this information so freely. "Do you have a phone?" she asked, wanting to get out of the room.

"Yes, in the kitchen. What, are you going to call your precious Harry to come pick you up?"

She ignored him, not intending to do that at all, and went back through the door into the kitchen. She needed to get her emotions in check and let Harry know that she was all right. Oddly enough, she didn't _want_ to leave.

Periwinkle was in the kitchen so she asked the elf where the phone was. She was pointed to the other side of the enormous white kitchen.

She picked up the phone and dialed the number of her flat. "Hello?"

"Harry, its Hermione. I just wanted to let you know that I'm alright and I found a place to spend the night."

"Where are you?"

"I'll be home later," she told him, ignoring his question. She didn't think he'd be too happy, or even believe her, if she told him that she was in the Malfoy Manor.

"Hermione, where _are you_?"

"Did you change my bed linens?"

"We didn't shag on your bed," said Harry.

"But her naked body touched my bed. Please change the sheets, Harry. I'll be home later. Bye." Hermione hung up the phone and leaned against the kitchen wall. She sighed heavily. She wasn't sure how she was going to handle Draco. She had so many questions for him; there were so many things she wanted to tell him, as well. Now that she saw him, she found that she was still very attracted to him.

"Is Potter terribly distraught?" drawled a voice from the doorway across the room. Hermione met the steely eyes of Draco and was hit with such a rush of emotion that she had to look away. "Come eat, Hermione, I'm sure you're famished," he invited.

She crossed the kitchen and followed him back into the breakfast room. There was a great spread of food on the buffet table, but Hermione only nibbled on a bagel. "You're attitude changed just because I'm me, right?"

"Now why would you say that?" Draco asked. Hermione could tell that he was trying to soften his voice so she couldn't prove her point.

"Last night, before you knew I was Hermione Granger, you were so nice to me and you didn't talk in your drawling, guarded voice and you looked happy," said Hermione. "I thought you would've grown up in five years, but clearly you haven't."

"So you'd rather me talk like this," he said, dropping the snarl and the attitude that Hermione had been talking about. His face looked much softer and more inviting, as well.

"Yes, I would. See, I knew you could do it. Now that that's done, I'd like to bring up the fact that you changed my clothes while I was unconscious."

"Oh, calm down, Hermione, I had one of the house elves do it. You know, I helped you out – giving you a place to sleep, and everything – and I _still_ haven't gotten a thank you."

"Oh yes, you're right, sorry. Thanks for doing all of this for me. Now I suppose you'll want me to be going…"

"Actually, quite the opposite," Draco said, raising his eyebrows at her. She looked questioningly at him, so he continued. "I don't think I've ever fully gotten over you, Hermione. I mean the mystery of you and everything. I never even got to _touch_ you."

"Until last night," Hermione added, trying to not blush, but she felt the heat creeping up her neck into her face. "But I know what you're talking about." She couldn't look him in the face.

Before she knew it, his lips were pressed against hers. It caught her off guard, but she didn't break the kiss.

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The ring of the telephone broke the perfect silence. Draco rolled over and picked up the phone. "Hello?...Ah, Potter…yes, I've got Hermione."

Hermione lifted her head from Draco's bare chest and tried to grab the phone from him before he could tell Harry who he was. The usual venom was back in his voice.

"Who am I? What, can't you tell Potter?...No?..."

Hermione managed to grab the phone and said, "Harry! Hello!" before Draco managed to do any more damage.

"Hermione, where the hell are you? You've been gone all day," Harry said. He sounded rather miffed. "And you're you with?"

"Harry, calm down. You've been gone all day before."

"Yea, sod off, Potter!" Draco yelled.

Harry had definitely heard that. "Who're you with?" he demanded. "It sounds a lot like—"

Hermione cut him off. "I've got to go Harry, bye!" and she hung up the phone. Then she hit Draco in the stomach with her fist. "Draco! You almost told Harry who you were! He'd be so angry!" Then the phone rang again in her hand. Draco grabbed it before she could throw it across the room.

"She's in the Malfoy Manor, Potter! You'd better come and save her!" he yelled, and promptly hung up.

"Draco!" Hermione shrieked and jumped out of the bed. She was going to start fuming at him but he just started laughing. It was then she realized that she was standing there, stark naked. She climbed back into the huge bed.

"Why did we just do that?" she asked him, and she suddenly seemed subdued again.

"Do what, tell Potter that you're with me?" he replied, faking ignorance.

"No, I mean…" Hermione couldn't bring herself to say it. Instead she just blushed, for what seemed like the billionth time that day.

"To make up for last night," he said very matter-of-factly.

"To make up for last night?" asked Hermione, slightly confused.

Draco put his hands behind his head and laid back, looking fully relaxed. Hermione started to run her finger over his chest while she listened to his explanation. "I went to that club last night to get laid, and instead I ended up with a sick Hermione."

"Is that what it meant to you?" Hermione demanded, suddenly angry. She took her hands off of his and started backing off of the bed, but Draco sat up and caught her arm.

"Of course not, Hermione," he said in the soft tone of voice he had acquired at Hermione's request.

"Well…good," said Hermione, fully believing him. She couldn't distrust that very nice, very kind new voice he was using with her. She lay back down next to him, entirely contented.

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When she arrived back at her flat, Harry was in the kitchen, drinking tea and talking on the phone. He saw Hermione take a seat on the living room sofa, said "Gabrielle, I'm going to have to call you back", hung up the phone, and went to sit next to Hermione. He opened his mouth to say something but Hermione stopped him before any words could come out.

"Before you say anything, Harry, I don't want you to judge me. I didn't judge you last night. Some stuff happened last night that isn't even clear to me, and then this afternoon…" she sighed, "well, it was nice. And I'm entitled to a nice time every once in a while, aren't I?" She paused to let Harry answer.

"Yes, of course, but—"

"But with Malfoy?" she said, finishing his question for him. "Well, I'll tell you why: I met up with him in this club last night, though I didn't know it was him because he looked so different. I didn't have any money so he bought me a few drinks. Hours later I found out it was him…" She was aware of Harry looking at her mussed hair, her nice dress thrown haphazardly on…but she continued. "Then I got sick and blacked out. The next thing I know, I'm in a room at the Malfoy Manor and things sort of progressed from there.

"You were in the Malfoy Manor?" cried Harry.

"Yes…" said Hermione, thinking he already knew this.

"I mean, I think I knew you were with Malfoy because it did sound like him on the phone but I didn't think you'd have gone back to his _house_…"

"Didn't you hear him shout it into the phone?" Hermione asked.

Clearly, Harry had no idea what she was talking about. Hermione burst out laughing. Subduing once again, she said, "So you're not mad at me?"

"You're a big girl Hermione, you can make your own choices," Harry said. "The only reason I was mad was because I didn't know where you were, and that worried me."

"Speaking of making your own choices, how did last night go?" Hermione raised her eyebrow at Harry in question.

Harry smiled slyly. "Very well, actually."

"Did you change my sheets?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, Hermione," Harry laughed.

"Thank you." There was a pause, and then Hermione said, "Harry, do you think we're going to be happy for the rest of our lives? I mean, we've both been lonely for quite a while, but maybe Gabrielle's for you and Draco's for me."

"Maybe," said Harry, though Hermione could tell he really didn't like the idea of her marrying Draco.

"He's really not that bad, Harry," Hermione assured him, trying not to laugh at the grimace he gave her. "All you have to do is get to know him."

"I think I'll pass on that," said Harry. "So, wait, let me get this straight: you met up with Malfoy after half a decade and you shag him."

Once again, Hermione blushed. "It was sort of like your date with Gabrielle."

"It seems like we both got lucky, then."

"It looks that way," said Hermione, glad that Harry wasn't angry with her.

"Let's just hope that the happiness lasts."

"I'll drink to that," Hermione said. "Let's go open a bottle of celebratory wine."


End file.
